Sealed within a colossal block of ice-blue crystal unmistakably sat the second key.
In the previous round on the Starlit Walkway, the two Hogwarts teams had lost both Neville and Ron. They had only scraped through by the skin of their teeth thanks to Fleur's flash of realization about the shooting stars. They had claimed the first key, yes, but not without devastating cost. The price had been steep.
Everyone had anticipated that a second key would exist somewhere in these challenges. What absolutely no one had expected was for it to appear before them so soon, so immediately after the last trial.
They still had no clear idea what the second key actually did, what door it would open, but that hardly mattered in this moment. It was clearly a critical piece of the puzzle, essential to ultimate victory, and every instinct they had told them so with certainty.
Fleur stared at the key suspended at the heart of the enormous diamond-shaped block, her expression was incomprehensible for a moment. Then, slowly, she took a few steps back from the ice and turned to face the eyes that had instinctively gathered on her, waiting for her decision.
"I already have one," she smiled and said simply, patting the pocket. "One is enough for me."
Objectively speaking, from a purely strategic standpoint, the more of such decisive items one possessed, the better one's chances became. But acquiring a second would only invite substantially greater risk and competition from all sides.
Beauxbatons had been whittled down from a full team to Fleur alone. Stepping aside was the sensible, pragmatic move, and everyone knew it.
The remaining three teams spread out into a loose triangle formation, encircling the massive ice block from three equidistant points. The tension between them settled into something familiar by now, that same careful stillness that had gripped them the moment the first key had revealed itself on the platform.
"Ahem—" The throat-clearing cut through the tension.
But this time, Cedric broke the heavy silence quickly, before it could solidify into hostility. He turned his steady gaze toward Hermione and Harry.
"Shall we get the key out first, then discuss fairly who it belongs to?" His tone was reasonable.
Harry considered for a moment, chewing his lip, then gave a small nod of agreement. It made sense. Hermione, still studying the ice block intently with that focused expression that meant her mind was racing through possibilities, said nothing but didn't object either.
"What do you think, Viktor?" Cedric turned toward Krum.
Krum's first instinct had been to settle the question of ownership before anything else.
Hogwarts already had two teams in this competition. With the key sitting in plain sight before them, a physical confrontation between the three teams seemed almost inevitable. And that would put Durmstrang at a serious disadvantage.
But what other choice was there, really? He couldn't extract the key alone while fighting off four opponents.
"Fine," Viktor said at last, after a long pause. His dark eyes were narrowed in calculation, and he gave a slow nod. "We retrieve it first."
"It won't be that simple—" Just as Cedric, Luna, and Harry raised their wands in unison to begin attempting to split or melt the ice, Hermione who had been standing in quiet, intense contemplation suddenly spoke up.
"What did you find, Hermione?" Harry asked immediately, lowering his wand and turning to face her.
"I used a Fire-Making Spell on the block just now—while you were all talking," Hermione exhaled slowly and pointed at the ice with a gesture.
"The flames melted all the snow on the surface easily, turned it to water. But the block itself was completely unaffected, not even slightly softened. Shouldn't it have melted at least a little? Even magically-enhanced ice should respond to flame."
Every gaze snapped sharply to the ice block, examining it with fresh eyes. A beat of tense silence, then almost in unison furrowed their brows.
Hermione was absolutely right. The surface of the block, even after being directly licked by magical flames, remained as hard and flawless as steel. Not a single drop of meltwater pooled at its base. Not so much as a hairline crack stained its surface.
"Perhaps—" Cedric hesitated, searching for explanations. "It just needs longer to work, sustained heat. The ambient temperature out here is extreme after all. Maybe the cold is counteracting the flames."
"Let's try," Hermione said, giving no further argument or theory. "Test it properly."
All five of them took a step back from the block and raised their wands toward it forming a loose semicircle.
"Accio key!" Viktor was first to call out, his voice was sharp and commanding. But the key, buried deep within the ice's heart, didn't so much as tremble or shift a millimeter.
Whoosh.
Boom.
Hermione and Harry unleashed twin jets of roaring magical fire simultaneously, coordinated without words, orange-red flames were shooting from their wand tips and scorching the block from both sides in a pincer attack.
"Bombarda!" Cedric shouted, and an explosive hex slammed into the ice with tremendous force. Luna released a torrent of her peculiar exploding musical notes; each one was detonating on impact with sparkling crashes.
For a short, spectacular moment, the towering ice-blue monolith standing in that frozen landscape blazed with the concentrated light of a dozen different spells. Fire and force and sound.
The heat from the sustained explosions pushed back the biting cold in a visible wave, and the air itself cracked and roared with magical energy. Snow vanished in clouds of steam.
Half a minute later, everything stopped. Magic had its limits, and none of them could afford to burn through their reserves recklessly.
The light faded. The roar died.
They all looked, breathless.
Silence.
Complete and total silence.
After all five of them had thrown everything they had at it, the great block of ice stood completely unscathed. Its surface was smooth as polished glass, not a single shard was displaced. As though they'd done nothing at all.
"It seems Professor Watson hasn't left us any convenient loopholes to exploit this time," Cedric said, withdrawing his wand with a quiet exhale. He didn't look particularly disappointed or frustrated, all things considered.
"If we want to melt the ice and retrieve the key, we'll need to go through one of those doors." Hermione turned away from the resistant ice block to face the row of stone doors with a calm, analytical look.
"So, it would appear." Cedric crossed his arms and studied the four doors.
"Four doors, three teams currently active, one door per team, I'd imagine. There must be trials inside each one. Overcome your trial successfully, and you receive whatever tool or knowledge it takes to melt the ice."
"That's fair," Viktor agreed. His stern brow was smoothed slightly, and something almost like clarity or relief crossed his brooding expression. "Whoever completes their trial first and returns to melt the ice wins the key."
"Reasonable," Harry agreed firmly. He had no desire to win the key through brute force or fighting former allies.
If the rules had been designed this way by Watson, fair competition through trials, then it would have felt cheap, almost like Professor Watson simply handing it to whoever happened to be strongest.
Fleur, hands clasped casually behind her back, listened to their discussions with interest and amusement. She showed no intention of stepping through any of the doors herself. Her part was done.
That left four doors standing before them and three teams remaining to enter.
From the outside, the doors were completely identical with no markings or symbols, no indication whatsoever of what lay within or beyond. In all likelihood, the trials on the other side were identical as well, or at least equivalent in difficulty. There was nothing strategic to gain from pondering over which specific door to choose.
Hermione, Cedric, and Viktor each picked a door without much observation.
"Good luck to us all!" Cedric called out cheerfully.
Cedric led Luna by the hand to the threshold of his chosen door, gave the others a cheerful, encouraging wave like they were all off to class together, and stepped eagerly through the shimmering vortex.
Viktor followed close behind him through his own door, disappearing into swirling light.
"Come on, Harry!" Hermione's voice was urgent.
"Let's hope we don't run into the others inside," Harry muttered under his breath. Then, without further word or hesitation, he stepped in front of Hermione, positioned himself between her and whatever came next and crossed boldly into the swirling vortex of colored light.
A brilliant flash came blindingly. Then came absolute stillness.
When the world finally settled again before Harry's adjusting eyes, swimming back into focus, he found himself still surrounded by ice and snow but this was a fundamentally different place. The geography had changed completely.
They had arrived inside what appeared to be an ancient Greek arena.
A vast circular floor stretched before them, easily a hundred yards across, enclosed by high walls that rose a full thirty feet into the air. Above those walls, tier upon tier of stone seats climbed in concentric rings, built to hold thousands of spectators.
Harry stepped cautiously around the stone door which had appeared behind them, and nearly lost his footing immediately. The entire arena floor was coated in a thick sheet of solid ice, dangerously slick beneath his boots. His arms windmilled for balance.
Moving with extreme care, testing each step, he shuffled toward the nearest wall and pressed a bare hand against the stone, tracing the carvings etched into the surface with curious fingers.
The craftsmanship was remarkable, genuinely impressive—these were no hasty magical etchings conjured from thin air. They must have come from somewhere specific; some real place. Harry found himself wondering idly where Professor Watson had encountered them, what ancient ruin he'd pulled this place from.
"Harry." Hermione's voice cut through his distraction.
He was still squinting at the frost-dusted patterns, trying to make out details, when Hermione called his name in a low voice that made his spine straighten.
"Did you find something—whoa!"
The treacherous ice floor betrayed him again without warning.
Harry's foot shot out from under him and he caught himself awkwardly with a grimace, windmilling. He shot a resentful look at his feet.
Was Professor Watson seriously planning to have them perform some kind of absurd ice-skating exhibition for the entire wizarding world of Europe?! This was ridiculous!
"Over there—" Hermione's voice was tight with tension.
Harry made his way carefully back to Hermione's side. She had one hand gripping his arm tightly for stability, and with her other trembling hand she was pointing across the arena's area.
Through the haze of drifting snow that fell continuously from nowhere, two enormous dark silhouettes stood motionless on sides of the arena's center line.
Harry pressed his lips together into a thin line. His heart began to beat faster, harder, audible in his ears.
The silhouettes weren't quite as tall as the arena walls but they were disturbingly close. And what was most unsettling was the shape of them: bloated, hulking outlines that bore a deeply uncomfortable resemblance to something human.
"Trolls?" Harry murmured without thinking.
"Could be giants," Hermione said, her voice barely steady, wavering. Her mind was trying to categorize the threat.
Harry glanced down at the challenging sheet of ice beneath them and said nothing for a heavy moment. His mind was racing through scenarios, none of them good.
Trolls or giants, in this environment, on ice where they couldn't move freely, couldn't dodge, couldn't run, neither was something they could realistically deal with. They'd be sitting ducks.
"We need to get closer," he said at last, drawing a long, steadying breath.
This round was a race between three teams competing simultaneously. Every second they spent here, paralyzed by uncertainty and the unknown, was a second that Cedric and Viktor were already moving forward in their own trials. There was no time to waste on hesitation or fear.
Hermione nodded. As soon as she moved to take a cautious step forward, Harry caught her hand firmly.
She looked at him, puzzled and slightly annoyed at being stopped.
He pointed at the ice-covered ground.
"The ice makes it nearly impossible to move safely—you've seen how I keep slipping," he said sofrtly. "I'll go ahead alone for a closer look, scout it out. If there's danger, pull me back quickly with a rope."
It was a sensible, tactical plan and Hermione didn't argue though the worry in her eyes was plain to see.
"Be careful, Harry."
He gave a solemn nod.
Hermione conjured a length of strong rope with her wand and tied it around his waist. Then Harry began to inch his way forward carefully across the ice.
"God, if I knew how to ice skate properly, this would be so much easier," he grumbled to himself as he went, trying to lighten his own mood.
Skating, skiing—neither was beyond the average person's reach.
Lots of normal kids learned them. But expecting the Dursleys to spend a single Knut on entertaining activities for him was a joke too absurd and bitter to finish. They'd have rather burned money.
He moved at an agonizing crawl, fighting the ice and the crosswind simultaneously. A distance that would have taken twenty or thirty seconds on solid ground dragged on painfully for two full minutes.
Then, finally, the silhouettes resolved into clarity and Harry's face went completely blank. All color was drained from it.
The oppressive weight of whatever stood before him hit him like a physical blow, tightening his chest and making it suddenly difficult to breathe.
THUD.
Back at the door, Hermione felt the rope snap violently taut in her hands without any warning and from somewhere through the monotonous howl of the wind, cutting through it, a muffled sound reached her ears.
'Was that Harry screaming?'
Without a second's hesitation, she grabbed the rope with both hands and pulled with all her strength.
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